


A Self-Analyzed Dissertation of the Metaphysical Center by Logan Sanders, a series

by OrbManson7



Series: A Dissertation of the Metaphysical Center by Logan Sanders, a series [1]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Existentialism, Food Issues, Gen, Logic | Logan Sanders Angst, Logic | Logan Sanders-centric, Panic Attacks, Self-Harm, Touch Aversion, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unresolved Emotional Tension, selective mutism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2020-10-29 14:24:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 15,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20798075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrbManson7/pseuds/OrbManson7
Summary: A collection of brief, introspective stories recounted as Logan attempts to face a troubling dilemma in his life.





	1. Not Knowing

One is unlikely to find a solution if they cannot even locate the problem.

That vague sense that something was _wrong_ had returned, and while Logan much preferred to ignore it, he knew that wasn't a logical course of action.  
After all, when a problem is presented, you should investigate, adapt, and then overcome. Sure, each situation provided different levels of nuance in their solutions, but the overall course remained the same.  
However, this was an issue that vexed him, and continued to do so repeatedly over the years.  
In order to address a problem, one must locate the source of said problem. But what do you do when you can't even be sure there's a problem in the first place?  
A vague sense of trepidation does not a problem make, after all.  
Perhaps he was mistaken, or merely concerned without cause? Perhaps something was wrong but its symptoms were so miniscule that he couldn't properly identify them?  
He considered seeing an expert, as that would sometimes be the next rational step in the process, but knowing that this was something he couldn't identify on his own made it a difficult decision to justify.  
He couldn't very well ask for help when he had yet to discover what he'd need the help for, or at the very least narrowed down the categories, so he wouldn't waste the professional's time and resources.

Of course, the lack of decision-making and follow-through did nothing but increase this sense of _wrong_ and _bad_ so Logan chose to incorporate a few, short periods of self-deliberation. However, he realized he still didn't have an answer, even after so much time searching.  
He had to find a way to describe it beyond its vague nature if he ever had any hope to address it, and so he started again.  
The closest analogy to explain it would be one in which he was driving an average, upkept vehicle and he thought he noticed the "check engine" light appear on the dashboard. Naturally, he would then pull over to the nearest safe location, pop open the hood of the car, and investigate the engine in an attempt to identify what would cause the notification light to alert him. But, in this scenario, he found nothing wrong, at least to his knowledge.  
Perhaps he was simply unfamiliar with car engines and couldn't see the problem first-hand? Then the next step would be to find a professional. Or perhaps he needed to dig deeper, pull the car up on a ramp and check each component from above and beneath to have a better understanding? He could do his own research and apply it without relying on others, as he has done in the past. Perhaps it was also possible he hadn't seen the light come on after all, and was simply experiencing stress or fatigue? In that case, he needn't waste the time and effort of a professional or himself when rest was all that was required.  
Looking at the engine didn't allow him to acquire the means to move onto the next step. He wasn't sure what to do moving forward…  
He honestly didn't know, and that not knowing scared him.

How was he to find a solution if he couldn't even locate the problem?


	2. Stuck

He had a job to do.

That's what it all came down to, in the end; Logan had a job to do, tasks to complete, and no one else could do that for him. He had to be capable, he had to be ready.

However, this newfound sense of stagnation, this _feeling_ of being stuck, it was holding him back, keeping him from moving forward as his knees buckled beneath the weight of the Sisphyean torture he'd somehow created for himself.

He'd advised Thomas about this sort of issue in the past, that it was best to seek out others in times of distress. But Logan couldn't very well speak to the other sides about such things, as these were struggles too large to handle, even for him. The others had their own dilemmas to parse out already, day in and day out. It would, frankly, be unfair and possibly cruel to ask that they lighten his burden by knowing about his troubles.

The alternative, though, would be to speak with a professional, but that wouldn't do well, either. That would require Thomas knowing Logan had been _lying_ and hiding what had been going on behind the scenes all this time, and then convincing him to address it on his own time against Logan's proposed weekly schedule. This wasn't Thomas' issue to bear, either, and impeding his progress for something that may not require such an extreme bout of resources certainly wouldn't be worth the stress it'd induce for him.

Not to mention, if Thomas knew Logan was terrible at his job, or even had the mere thought that Logan couldn't perform as needed… well, then he wouldn't be needed.

He was stuck.

If he let this keep going, let this destroy him completely, he wouldn't be able to perform his required duties to his best capacity. He would fall behind and fail Thomas and the other sides, all because he refused to trust them, to seek help.

If Logan asked for assistance, he'd be seen as incompetent. He'd lose any standing he currently had, and he'd lose any standing he had with the others and Thomas' respect right along with it.

He was stuck.

He had a job to do, and if he managed to handle it thus far without anyone's help, then he could damn well venture further.


	3. Silenced

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this one’s longer than the last ones and a bit different. It mirrors an exact situation I dealt with a little while back, but I don’t know that it qualified as a ‘panic attack’ which is going to make this difficult to tag properly.
> 
> Warnings: Panic/anxiety attack, angst, mutism, nonverbal response to stress, extreme touch aversion

He had made a regrettable error.

Logan’s decision to remain stagnant, to not address the issue that he alone happened to face, turned out to have some undesirable consequences.

It seemed, to coin another poignant analogy, when a faucet is turned on and the cup beneath fills to the top, it will overflow. Logan believed that stoppering that faucet, turning it off completely, would solve the issue. However, in this scenario, he hadn’t bothered to empty the already full cup.

And someone else had turned the faucet back on.

While it was by no means Virgil’s fault, he had contributed to the hesitation in making routine phone calls all week, which then prevented Thomas from scheduling necessary appointments and ultimately delayed his overall productivity. According to Logan’s newly-updated planner, Thomas had a free hour before he had to prepare his dinner tonight, so Logan stepped in to negate Virgil’s cognitive distortions and give Thomas verifiable facts that may or may not have spooked their host into action.

Riding the wave of productivity, Logan ignored Virgil’s incessant grumbling and whining as Thomas proceeded to catch up on each and every phone call he’d failed to make or return throughout the week.

The plan was supposed to work.

By the third call, Logan knew they had gotten back on track, and sensed success for the following days. Perhaps enforcing Thomas’ productivity _was_ a proper course of action, after all!

By the fourth phone call, Thomas became oddly quiet. Logan didn’t have much time to investigate why before Virgil had reached over and grabbed Logan’s sleeve, startling him. The cold, filmy sensation against his skin felt vile and uncomfortable, but turning to glance back at him showed that Virgil was clearly worse for wear.

Hood up, eyes seemingly screwed tightly shut, Virgil shakily held Logan’s sleeve, muttering, begging for a reprieve.

Logan knew this wasn’t an optimal situation. Obviously.

However, he’d seen Virgil in worse situations. This wasn’t a panic attack, this was just… nerves. Tension, really. Once they finished the next phone call, Thomas would have plenty of time to relax on his own for the remainder of the night and Virgil would recover and be just fine.

“Just a little longer,” Logan told him. “One more and we’ll be at our productivity quota for the week, and everything will be back to normal.”

He believed that saying such would be reassuring to the other side, to know that their task was almost complete, but Virgil let out a strained whimper and _didn’t let go_.

Logan wasn’t particularly fond of touch, and while the others often disregarded that fact, he certainly didn’t see the use in repeating the information if they weren’t going to listen to it anyway.

If Virgil happened to be going through a rough time, and it was technically Logan’s doing that caused it, then he supposed it may be proper punishment to simply endure such discomfort.

It was for the sake of productivity, after all.

Thomas hung up the phone, breath shaky. Logan silently urged him to make the last call of the night, but Thomas hadn’t looked up from his phone yet.

Logan felt Virgil’s grip tighten around his arm, jolting the discomfort through him, radiating from his arm and up his neck and pulsing into his head. He felt shivers as his jaw clamped closed.

Thomas finally glanced over at the post-it note with the last phone number written on it. He just had to dial one last number, and get through one last call, and he’d be free to enjoy his evening. Virgil would stop filling every inch of this space with dark, vile, filmy, uncomfortable negativity, and Logan would be able to move, to speak, to–

Thomas hit the button. Finally.

The receiver picked up, they asked for Thomas’ name. He opened his mouth.

Nothing came out.

Virgil began violently trembling, another hand now urgently grabbing at Logan’s wrist. Logan’s mind tried not to focus on every touch feeling disgusting, the sense of it all writhing along his skin nauseated him.

Why did he have to keep touching him? Why did this have to be so difficult a task to complete? They’ve done this before! Maybe not so many in one sitting, but it was necessary. This shouldn’t be causing so much trouble for everyone!

Thomas swung around, facing Logan with absolute fear in his eyes. He moved his mouth, nothing would come out. He…couldn’t speak?

Logan didn’t understand. Language was _his_ department; he was fully functional, yet Thomas was not.

He refocused on Thomas’ concern, trying to parse through the disgust at still being touched and squeezed, and granted his communication. It had no reason to be dysfunctional, as it should always be on. Logan served an important purpose, after all. He had to.

Logan opened his mouth, knowing to relay comfort in a time of panic, but… his mouth didn’t open at all. His jaw was still tensed, clamped shut.

Logan’s eyes widened in honest surprise, and he watched as Thomas shakily hung up the phone, the operator on the other line clearly unaware of his silent situation.

“Wh-what’s happening??” Virgil shuddered beside him, voice already doubling eerily. “Thomas can’t– why can’t he talk? What did I do?!”

Virgil pulled on his arm, and Logan tumbled backwards, falling to the floor in a silent, uncomfortable heap. Nothing was okay, nothing was right.

Why was this happening?

Was this all resulting from his choice to improve the lack of productivity? Was his problem-solving rhetoric so on the fritz now that he couldn’t complete a task such as merely _speaking_ to allow for Thomas’ communication?!

How long was this to last? Had Logan caused a permanent issue for his host?

What if there were an emergency and Thomas needed to call out for help? Logan failing at one of his main, required duties now had the potential to get him killed, all because Logan had chosen productivity over comfortability!

These thoughts were overwhelming. They sounded like Virgil, not himself.

He was shaking now, too. He shoved Virgil’s hands away, but the feeling of gross and sick and uncomfortable still remained. It always felt like that when the others touched or hugged him, just the disgust crawling everywhere. He had earned this, though. He had earned worse for what he’d done to Thomas.

He chanced a glance up at their host then, unsure what he had hoped to see. Thomas had reached out to Virgil, as though attempting to comfort him without words.

Logan couldn’t even allow Thomas to help himself or his sides in their time of need. What had he done?!

Curling into himself, Logan tried to push past the terror that was freezing the space around him, closing in ever quicker. Spiraling and focusing on himself wouldn’t solve this. He had to stop worrying about himself and do what was best for Thomas and Virgil right now. He needed to do what he was designed to do.

Logan had to identify the issue, assess the best solution, and fix his own mistakes.

He shut his eyes.

Fact: He could not speak. Neither could Thomas.

Observation: He had done this. This was his fault.

Observation: Virgil had reacted badly to the onslaught of social interaction, as he so often did in the past. It was Logan’s fault for continuing the cruel activity that Virgil had had such an extreme response.

Fact: Virgil was often capable of calming himself down with proper distraction.

Hypothesis: If given something else to focus on temporarily, Virgil’s severe reaction may subside.

Logan opened his eyes. He just needed to locate a distraction and let time perform the rest.

Speaking was out of the question, and summoning one of the others would result in the potential for more stress on Thomas’ part. He had to do this alone, without words.

His skin still crawling, his mind still racing, his faults laid bare in front of him as Thomas continued to panic silently and Virgil sank into his hoodie, Logan got to his feet. He stood, breathed through his nose while trying not to think about his jaw being immovable, and stepped forward.

He motioned to Thomas to sit down, and he obliged. So far, so good.

He then knelt in front of Virgil on the steps, hoping to grab the anxious side’s attention, but he didn’t seem aware.

Logan’s skin still crawled, screaming at him in disgust, but he already chose over Virgil’s comfort and caused this mess, so his comfort deserved equal treatment in return, even if only momentarily.

He reached out, barely grazing Virgil’s knee, to grab his attention.

Virgil hastily looked up, his trembling clear as the eyeshadow that seemed to have doubled under his eyes. He didn’t look okay in the slightest, but he wasn’t shoving Logan away or yelling at him.

Logan held up four fingers. Then raised his hand to make it seven fingers. Then one more, for eight.

Virgil blinked a few times, seeming confused.

“I– you can’t talk either?” He asked, his voice trembling more than it doubled. Logan hoped that was a good sign, but he couldn’t be sure.

Instead of answering, he repeated the gesture.

Virgil nodded to himself, and tried breathing at the intervals Logan provided. Logan had seen Virgil do breathing exercises on his own. He knew Virgil knew what to do, but having to rely on that for Thomas’ sake still didn’t sit well with him.

A couple minutes of silence, and Virgil appeared to have calmed down. However, Logan tried again to speak and continued to fail in his objective.

It really was possible he’d caused a permanent problem, something he couldn’t fix.

“I’m sorry,” Virgil whispered as he pulled back his hood.

Logan looked him in the eye, seeing Virgil really had calmed himself enough to recede the negativity that had been surrounding the room.

Logan wanted to enjoy this lack of trepidation, but… it was almost like it was still there. He could clearly tell it wasn’t filling the room any more, and the air had cleared, but everything inside him still felt wrong and uncomfortable.

And, beyond that, he knew this wasn’t Virgil’s fault. He shook his head, trying to portray such, but found Virgil only looking more upset at his lack of response.

“I don’t understand what’s going on…” Virgil mumbled, wiping his eyes. “Why can’t Thomas talk? Why can’t you? I mean, I hate talking on the phone but he hung up… everything should be okay now… right?”

Logan glanced back at Thomas. He was sitting on the couch with his head in his hands, still looking worried. Logan stood back up.

He hadn’t fixed this yet, but he still had to try.

Grabbing Thomas’ attention was easier, but aiding him proved more difficult. This particular situation had never happened before, and Logan didn’t have any previous experience with which to hypothesize a solution.

Thinking on any information about nonverbal responses to stress, his knowledge came up empty. It wasn’t something on which he’d read or heard; it wasn’t something he could solve without proper research.

He couldn’t correct this, but he may still be able to provide a short-term distraction.

He pointed down at Thomas’ phone, only for Thomas to almost immediately look panicked. Logan shook his head, waving his arms emphatically. He didn’t mean to remind him of what started the predicament!

Logan peered around the living room. He spotted a framed photograph of Thomas’ friends, and motioned to it instead.

Thomas opened his mouth, and frowned at his inability to speak again. Logan motioned to the photo and then back to the phone. He made a gesture with his hands, simulating texting.

Thomas’ eyes lit up for the first time that whole day and he grabbed his phone and quickly texted one of his friends.

Logan checked over his shoulder on his spelling, finding it was adequate. So his communication center hadn’t been fully affected, it was localized to speech. Logan could only hope, again, that that was a good sign.

It took a few more minutes, and looking over at Virgil, Logan found that he was far more calm than before, which was helping Thomas significantly in overcoming the situation.

Thomas managed a small smile, and looked up at Logan, trying once more to open his mouth and speak.

“…th…” Thomas’ eyes widened, his head shooting up in surprise. “That… what was that?”

He licked his lips, like his mouth had been dry, and instantly seemed relieved, rubbing at his jaw.

“I guess everything’s okay, though…”

Logan would deny it, but he felt that relief, as well.

Thomas was going to be okay. He had fixed his mistake.

He gave his best reassuring smile, and glanced back at Virgil, who gave a quick salute before sinking out. Logan turned back to Thomas, who started mumbling to himself song lyrics, as though in wonder of his voice returning.

Logan stepped away again.

His jaw hadn’t moved, hadn’t loosened in the slightest, but at least he’d corrected the problem he’d caused.

It was a worthy punishment, after all, wasn’t it?


	4. Three Hours

Three hours.

It had taken three hours, digging through research, locating any information he could find available for Logan to truly understand that what had transpired had not been normal.

It had taken three hours, fourteen minutes, and seven seconds until he realized he'd been muttering to himself under his breath as he scanned over an article about social phobias. The sound was so quiet, but it had been coming from him!

Gasping, he found he quickly regretted the overwhelming sense of relief and even gratitude that flooded him at the realization that his voice had returned.

It wasn't a permanent issue, after all. It was only a minor and temporary setback.

He would have to continue his research in order to prevent more incidents like that in the future, of course.

He had wasted Thomas' time, needlessly caused him and Virgil distress, and offset the rest of that day's schedule, all due to a choice he'd made.

Focusing on why the result was some form of selective mutism, he only became more confused when attempting to unravel its cause. Though Virgil could overwhelm Thomas at times, that was not like any panic attack he'd ever witnessed, and Thomas appeared more affected by Logan's hand in the matter.  
Virgil's disbelief throughout the encounter also raised some questions. Was it possible he didn't know he could…silence another side, or silence Thomas?  
The only other side capable of such a feat in the past had been Deceit, but he'd never used it directly on Thomas to his knowledge.  
And Virgil's abilities often stemmed from taking control through fear, not ommitting through deception.

What did that mean?

Logan absently rubbed at his jaw. It felt sore, likely from the constant tension of being closed tightly over the past few hours.

Deceit's powers didn't feel like that when he used them on Logan. It was more of an enforced gag, not the machine-like clamping from today.

Perhaps that was Thomas' doing? Certainly he had control over more of himself than he believed. A lapse in function due to an onset of phone calls could have been a mere fluke, resulting in the temporary mutism.

But his cognitive behavior had altered, his speech-based language center had ultimately failed for what became nearly fifteen minutes of time. Language and words and the primary functions of speech should all have been controlled by Logan.

So, what did that mean?

Had Logan done more than simply make a poor choice? Whatever it was hadn't been intentional, but it still lasted three hours, fourteen minutes, and seven seconds.

His not speaking seemed to alert Virgil in the moment, though. That appeared a significant observation, yet once he had calmed down, he then took off to his room as soon as Thomas recovered. Logan's new research showed that this mutism may have been some sort of alert signal, a call-sign to retrieve attention in a new form.

If the brain made a symptom clear, like exhibiting pain in an extremity due to a wound, the host was meant to address the issue and apply the proper technique to give the body time to heal. However, if the host refused to treat the wound, the brain would then find other methods, or rather other _symptoms_ to get the host's proper attention. Increased pain, decreased pain to the point of numbness, muscle and nerve dysfunction throughout the affected area were all quite common. He'd even read about an instance in which a man who hadn't treated an infection in his leg for a long enough period of time had suddenly developed a symptom of temporary blindness. It's what caused him to finally go to the hospital for treatment.

Logan covered his mouth, nausea setting in.

Is that what had happened? Was it possible that he had missed something more important, and that this had been a redirection of symptoms in an attempt to correct an issue? Was it possible _he_ was the issue?

He'd entertained the thought in the past, but now, in light of these new events, it had more merit behind it than ever. His lack of function today could spell disaster for tomorrow.

Logan stood from his desk, knowing that he had his solution, his next step. It wasn't one he enjoyed, but it had to be done.


	5. Assistance

The plan had been to ask for Thomas' assistance. After causing such distress without any intent, Logan knew he wasn't capable of hiding the issue any longer without potentially harming others. He would need a little help, and Thomas happened to be an adequate conduit.

His first attempt to approach Thomas had failed, however, due to a mishap in following his schedule that caused him to be late meeting up with a friend, and Thomas was stressfully looking around for his keys when he should have instead had an extra moment to speak.

But that was alright. Logan quickly identified the last place Thomas had placed his keys--in his jacket pocket that was hanging off the couch--and bid him good day. They could talk later.

The second attempt didn't pan out well, either, as Thomas was too tired to hear what Logan had to say after spending all day out with friends. Virgil was tapped-out after so much interaction, and he insisted Thomas rest. Logan, while somewhat reluctant due to his own situation, was inclined to agree. He was meant to ensure Thomas' health was upheld first and foremost, after all.

The third time, he had gotten a moment alone to speak with Thomas, but he seemed a bit distracted. Before even beginning to describe the situation, he was interrupted by Roman's sudden brainstorming. The minor delay was nothing to worry about, but Logan knew he had to stay to keep the two from spiralling off on ridiculous tangents that would never be produced. He was used to it at that point, though, and let it slide. Another time would come soon enough.

The fourth time was meant to be the last try. He had covertly altered Thomas' schedule by only five minutes, which was meant to give him just the right amount of time to address the issue one-on-one and still keep him on time to his interview that afternoon. Logan popped up just in time to witness that he'd failed again, this time thanks to Patton's attention-seeking. Apparently, he had been "feeling low," as he put it, and Thomas proceeded to _praise_ Patton for being upfront and honest with him about such things.

It felt like a slap in the face, really.

The one task he'd been trying to accomplish was tossed aside over and over. However, the moment another side proceeds to do the same, they are then given compassion and have their worries heard, clearly and uninterrupted.

Logan knew he wasn't supposed to have emotions. He knew that, but they were still there, shoved down out of sight. Something was wrong, and hiding it for so long was causing him to inadvertently hurt the others, stressing them, worrying them…

Would telling Thomas really solve anything?

He was comforting Patton, but he wasn't providing him any answers. Would warmth and compassion be any real assistance to Logan and his issues?

It didn't seem likely.

He'd have to find another way.


	6. Selfish

He had been selfish.

Just thinking back on the situation involving Patton, on top of the incident with Thomas and Virgil, and numerous other past transgressions, Logan recognized his emotions and desires were the common factor in his blunders. He had selfishly planned to supercede Thomas' own desires and temporarily replace them with his own, just to correct his own predicament.

It was expected, of course.

He had worked diligently over the years to keep his pesky emotions under wraps. Yes, they were there. Yes, they existed. But not by any will of his own, that's for sure. If he could truly dispose of them, he would.

In fact, that'd been the subject of many an experiment, all having failed in some capacity or another. He suspected the desire for certain results skewed the true answers.

Just like they were now.

He had planned to alert Thomas to his situation, seek more knowledge on the subject, and then execute a new process based on that newly-obtained information. However, he had concluded his desire to change was very likely to be what was causing the problem to appear so prevalent.

He couldn't bring passion into this or it'd fail to be objective.

It would only prove to be selfish, and cast the others' wants aside.

He had to conceal these unwanted feelings behind some proper apathy. He could uncover the new information elsewhere, but for now, his focus should remain on correcting and maintaining his behavior.

No more slip-ups.

No more mishaps.

No more emotions.


	7. Wanted

The realization was harsh and unforgiving.

He wanted their attention.

He wanted their affection.

He _wanted_.

Logan had resigned a while ago to possessing an emotion or two, but knowing there was an active desire thrumming beneath his every action was less than ideal.

It skewed his logic. He couldn't truly be objective if he was biased, after all. For the sake of efficiency, he must force it down.

He wanted, and unreasonably at that.

He wanted Thomas to listen. He wanted the others to care about what he had to say, to see him worthy of their time.

Yet, he knew thinking such was a waste. He'd given no reason, no incentive for their understanding. Why should they offer such a service in exchange for Logan's unwanted spiels and tangents? Who would show compassion towards an unwavering wall of apathy and solitude?

He hadn't earned their comfort. And, worse yet, he knew he'd reject it if they thought to offer exactly what he wanted.

He wasn't meant to want it in the first place.

He wasn't meant to _want_.


	8. Space

The process of change is so often inimical.

Not to say it couldn't be enjoyable at times, but Logan knew it wasn't and wouldn't dare delude himself into thinking it might be this time.

To better serve purpose to Thomas, he must overcome his few remaining emotional tendencies, starting with any distractions that kept him from proper levels of efficiency.

He entered his bedroom, already glancing along the grey walls covered in many maps and diagrams. There were an abundance of large posters detailing deep space photos with factual information.

Those were his favorite.

And that meant they must be removed.

The inane emotional response to such a thought proved his theory to be true. He wasn't meant to be sentimental, especially for something so trivial, material. Losing something like a poster was not akin to losing the knowledge it contained, knowledge he'd already well memorized.

Truly, the posters, the star maps, the physical representations of a night sky and the studies of what lie beyond were all wholly unnecessary.

Walking up to the wall, Logan removed the precisely-placed pins holding each informational poster in position. He gathered them all languidly in his arms, until the walls of his room were empty and bland, as they were meant to be.

These were distractions. They served no purpose here, nor to Thomas. They weren't needed.

He peered down at the first poster, a beautiful render of the Ant Nebula, colors saturated and brimming with light. He often took a few moments to curiously ponder of the origins of such a nebula when taking a short reprieve from his work.

Which is exactly why it had to go.

He had to do this, for the sake of progress, for the sake of productivity, for the sake of Thomas' well-being. The priorities had been made clear, and even such momentary distractions couldn't be tolerated.

Ignoring the unsettling tremble in his hands, Logan took a deep, clear breath, and then ripped the poster in half. He folded the pieces together and ripped them again. The sound of the paper shredding and separating seemed to echo into the barren room around him.

He recognized that he wasn't enjoying this, but it was necessary.

Why did it have to be necessary?

He shook his head, willing the mess of paper away. Leaving no trace, the room was finally devoid of sound, color, and true distraction. It was an empty space, free to fulfill its purpose and nothing more.

Now he could get to work.


	9. Seeing Red

Emotions weren't his department.

He knew Patton held most, if not all of Thomas' emotions. His puns and pacifist nature were meant to give the self-imposed 'fatherly' side a benign appearance, someone for Thomas to rely on and confide in.  
But Logan knew well Patton possessed more than just his silliness and jokes. He'd seen it, after all.

Patton didn't seem to care for negative emotions any more than the rest of them did, though, and he bravely hid them away.

However, once Thomas had discovered the truth of this matter, he had foolishly advised Patton to release those chains, to allow for such burdensome and unspeakable events to occur.

Thomas believed handling a mighty beast was the key to taming it, rather than locking it within solitude until it withered down its own will and need to feed.

Logan was unsure what had given him such a notion, but all his sides were now to pay the consequence for it. Patton's joy and surprise could be enjoyable from time to time, but his fear and despair proved to be overwhelming and difficult to sway.

Virgil took on that worry heavy-handedly, and Roman handled the pride with his matchable ego, but that meant Logan had been saddled with anger and annoyance and irrationality and destruction.

Logan wasn't designed to interact with, let alone handle such volatile emotions. They went against his very being, his purpose of rationality and reason. Anger was like a cancerous disease, poisoning his extremities in an attempt to leak into his core, rage and wrath refusing to relent at even his greatest defenses.

And it showed.

Oh, it showed. He didn't recognize it at first, due to his inexperience with such things, but it would occasionally bubble up, weigh him down, and then overwhelm and override his senses.

He never cared much for the color, and seeing red solidified that opinion.


	10. Isolated

He enjoyed being alone.

More time to work, more time to focus.

It was easier to stay on task when the others weren't around, trying to grab his attention or distract him with some needless activity.

His productivity quota was often remarkable, and his efficiency unmatched. Starting and completing tasks happened to be a necessity for Thomas and an agreeable venture for Logan, so everyone remained satisfied so long as the deadlines were met.

And they were. Logan made sure they were.

He ignored any distractions, kept focused as long as possible on the current task--often a few at once, multitasking was far more efficient, after all. It always worked.

He always worked.

It wasn't as if he was needed for the others to enjoy their time in this mindspace. In fact, they likely preferred his absence in their activities.

No one to drag down their positivity with his apathy and objectivity, no one to bother and bore them with unwanted information…

Even Thomas only required him when questions needed reasonable answers.

This system worked best for everyone.

No excess, no time wasted, and everything in its place.

Logan belonged here, so long as he worked efficiently and met the set deadlines. He was wanted here, so long as he served a purpose, his purpose.

He quite liked serving that purpose.

There didn't need to be anything else. He could be satisfied with this.

He was satisfied. His work ethic was exact, his punctuality was precedent, and his purpose was intact.

It was fine.

It was satisfactory.

It was quiet.

It was empty.

It was lonely.


	11. Under Pressure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Brief depictions of unconventional self-harm

It'd been a stressful day.

Hell, it'd been a stressful week, month, year, and decade, if he was being honest.

As he always did, he tucked down those emotions bubbling up inside him. When they crawled to his hands, stinging and burning, he washed them away with piercingly cold water until they were numb. When they ventured up his throat, threatened to infect his mind, he would apply pressure with flattened palms up his neck and along his temple until the world became hazy and the emotions dulled and coiled away.

They occasionally retaliated in kind, unfortunate as that may be.

Emotions didn't seem to care for restraint. Like a wild animal, they reared back only to stand tall, to intimidate by means of appearing larger than its adversary.

When that trick failed to retrieve desired results, it lashed out.

Hot, searing bursts against his skull. Quick, off-putting stutters of the heart and lungs. Low, pitted dread seating itself in his stomach, twisting his insides in any way it chose. Unpredictability was its favorite weapon.

Logan endured the nauseating headaches, the exhaustingly sleepless nights, and the complete lack of focus leading to his repeated lack in productivity. So long as no one knew about his struggle, he could maintain his composure, he could keep the beast contained.

There was no need to alert anyone to the neverending duress. He had it almost entirely under control. If he didn't, someone would have noticed. Someone would have said something. And Logan would have denied it, as there was no reason to concern anyone.

He had it under control.

After all, performing under pressure produced some of his best work to date.


	12. Guilt

Wanting to improve was a harrowing trial, Logan had found.

What proved to be toughest to endure, though, was the thought that he hadn't earned it.

What had given him the right to believe he could be better? Why did he think he'd be given a reprieve of desolation, simply by wanting it?

He was meant to endure. His duty was to identify the problem, and then solve it. Wanting self-improvement wasn't a part of that process, even if he'd previously identified himself as a problem.

However, he knew he was far more a complex issue than the occasional anomaly or misstep that Thomas would inevitably allow to pass. Logan was designed to fix mistakes, but had somehow been given the capability to create them, as well.

An equivocal conundrum, as if embodying Curry's paradox, Logan could never correct the largest mistake: himself.

It wasn't a negative view or a lack of motivation like others may believe. He simply had all the facts, and he'd yet to reach the point of not constantly attempting to correct it.

Someday, he'd stop caring that he couldn't achieve his true purpose.

Someday, he'd stop feeling guilty every time the thought crossed his mind.

Someday, he'd find a way to be better.

Someday, he'd find a way to be happier.


	13. Dinner Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions/depictions of food, food issues, unhealthy relationship with food/eating (not necessarily eating disorders)

Logan was a picky eater.

He had long since determined his lack of enjoyment for food likely stemmed from his awareness that he did not actually require it in the way a human being might. Embodying an imaginary form for the purpose of Thomas' comfort in personifying his own personality subsets could do that, after all.  
Sure, he still needed energy to perform basic tasks, as he was still a part of Thomas' working brain, and the easiest known way to obtain that energy happened to be through consuming food, but Logan did not particularly care for the activation of senses it involved.

The smell, for instance. Certain foods, like meat, had a scent that filled too much space and lingered when cooked.

The texture of pasta and dough-based cuisine was uncomfortable in his mouth, more so than anything else being in there.

The amount was always a concern, as well. The other sides, and Thomas especially, he'd found had a proclivity for overindulgence, and as such would increase their portion sizes and then expect Logan to match such zealous partaking. He rarely did.

Crofters became an exception, for multiple reasons.

He discovered rather quickly that preserved fruits and raw or steamed vegetables were quite wonderful, as they didn't give off too strong a scent, the texture was usually smooth rather than distracting, they didn't take up too much space in his mouth when engaging in the consumption process, the portion sizing was adequate to his needs without becoming too filling, and they were ultimately quite nutritious.

It was possible for him to enjoy some food, but he was clearly selective about it.

He did not, however, enjoy learning that food came with stipulations and customs.

Patton once took offense when Logan declined to participate in his special "family dinner" sessions, and, as such, Logan found that if he simply appeased the emotional side by attending, he then didn't ask Logan any incessant questions about what he ought not be privy to.

Unfortunately, that required participating in a meal with the others at least once a week. Very often, it was on Friday, unless a holiday superceded the occasion. Logan had long-since managed to craft a system to allow for his full participation, both to appease the others and to keep himself from becoming too uncomfortable.

Due to his awareness of his distinct preferences and not wanting to disrupt the others' plans over something so trivial, Logan found he was unable to bear through most of these dinners.

From the moment he entered the room, he endured the visceral attacks to his senses while maintaining as equitable an expression as he could muster.

He practiced showing gratitude while silently hoping Roman didn't attempt a grand gesture to pile on multiple helpings of whatever concoction Patton had chosen to manifest that night.  
It wasn't that he didn't appreciate it, because he understood by now that this was how they showed comfort with one another and it certainly worked remarkably well when integrating Virgil among their daily activities, but Logan wished it wasn't necessary.

They deserved his gratitude and kinder words than the ones that so often would slip from his lips. And yet, there he sat, staring down a plate full of food that he didn't want nor need.

Too strong of smell. Too much in portion. Too complex in texture.

He wasn't supposed to be _picky_ about this, so subconsciously demanding. He was supposed to be grateful, and yet all he could think about was how much he had to lie to be accepted, to spare the others' emotions.

He'd considered mentioning his preferences once he'd investigated them enough to determine what they were and exactly what the purpose behind them seemed to be. However, that would cause them to worry and alter their behavior, or possibly something worse.

No, he couldn't tell them. He would simply have to endure. If anyone needed to correct their behavior, it was him, not them.

He could only hope they never tried to do the same for him, as no one should have to undergo such discomfort on his behalf.

This was best for everyone.

He was more than capable of handling it.

He was just being picky.


	14. Normal

He talked to himself.

And he didn't know it was odd in any way until Thomas witnessed another adult mention, in a clientele setting, that it wasn't considered _normal._

He had to pause to immediately reevaluate his own behaviors, because he knew well he spoke to himself quite often.

Logan much preferred to spend his time alone in his room, and sometimes thinking out loud gave his ideas a more tangible form. From muttering under his breath to keep a long-form equation intact, to repeating a word or phrase ad nauseum because it seemed to have gotten stuck in his mind and wouldn't leave, to creating fully fledged scenarios wherein he could educate an imaginary student on a topic of his interest as there certainly wasn't an actual student willing to listen to him ramble on, he filled his empty space with sound of his own musings.

Somehow, he hadn't realized that it was an unacceptable practice.

It didn't require research to learn that the word 'crazy' was whispered about those who would do such things. They would be observed like test subjects, mere specimens under a lens, to identify what was wrong and how to _fix_ it.

Logan was meant to be a problem-solver, not the problem itself.

That meant he had to stop talking to himself.

He drafted a plan and implemented a punishment-and-reward system to curb the behavior. Within the week, his results were far from satisfactory.

Due his clear lack of improvement, he strived to do better. He created new stipulations, like the stoplight protocol to keep word usage low. He forced himself to attend to the others and insert his silent presence in their daily activities so he wouldn't be tempted to speak unprompted at all.

After another week, the results had already significantly improved. He was finally doing something right!  
However, Logan had begun cataloguing thoughts to better sort them and only wasted time in trying to focus, remember, and parse through the clutter of his mind in all the quiet. It wasn't ideal to be lacking in his primary functions, and proved a failure of a trade-off for improvement and resolution overall.

He attempted to remedy this with ambient music at a low volume during certain work hours, but Thomas had disapproved almost instantly and Logan was aware it could have potentially given him an excuse to talk to himself quietly again, so he agreed to the veto.

It left him with little to alleviate his own stress towards the situation, though. And he couldn't request assistance for this, either, because not only would the initial problem alert the others to his problematic nature, but he was also clearly self-manufacturing his stress by attempting to appear more normal in the first place.

He had fixed the problem, just like he was meant to.

Yet, he had only created another in result, one he couldn't fix.


	15. Progress

His newest progress report contained twenty-two pages of text, three pages of graphs, and one page of resource notes for reference. It was one of the most comprehensive papers he'd completed involving his own work, and he hoped it would be one of the last.

* * *

He used to create these reports from templates, fill them out monthly to mark significant changes and correct behavior as needed. However, as Thomas graduated school and abandoned academic education to pursue theatre and a job maintained solely through the internet, Logan found his progress plans served little purpose among all the lights and glamour. He was better use to Thomas when crunching numbers of hours spent filming and calculating estimated views, so Logan threw himself into that necessary role and all but abandoned his own pursuit for progress.

He'd come across an old report by mistake one afternoon while refiling one of Thomas' old calendar logs. Curious and with time to waste for once, he scanned it over. That was how he realized it'd been nearly five years since he last sat down to write out a complete, compendious report on his own marked improvement.

Clearly, he was overdue for an update.

He compiled needed folders, cleared his desk of clutter, and got down to work. He listed all previous accomplishments, made sure to introduce the new metric to accommodate fan appreciation and sharability, and calculated an estimated length of time he spent working in particular categories of interest.

Initially, he anticipated to visualize a graph marking continuous improvement, with key moments marked and highlighted. However, as he analyzed the full data, he found that idea to be unlikely to occur.

Looking over the comprehensive report, he could easily locate detailed improvement from Thomas and the other sides for comparison; the marked lines raised in steady progressions over the past few years. They had matured right before his very eyes…all while he had, for some reason, stagnated.

Hands shaking, he reminded himself the graphics mostly relied on significant changes and key moments and therefore the Cartesian visuals were not always reliable.

The raw data, however, couldn't disguise the truth. And it didn't bother to do so, either.

He might as well have saved time and drawn a flat line along the x-axis because it hardly strayed from its starting coordinate point at all.

He hadn't made any improvement.

Five years. One thousand eight hundred and twenty-five days. Forty-three thousand and eight hundred _hours_.

He'd wasted all of that time.

He flipped through each page, analyzing each drawn graph separated by category. Little to no upward progression occurred in any of them.  
In fact, he recognized a _reduction_ in improvement in his expressiveness category! And there was a significant decrease over the past two years in the family category, as well. The areas that he had been so keen to improve in prior were his biggest failures.

Logan slumped forward in his chair and rested his forehead flat on the desk, his glasses clinking against the surface.

He'd been failing Thomas this whole time, and he hadn't even realized it.

He'd been under some illusion that the improvement should come naturally, that time would show perhaps a more open relationship with the other sides and alter his behavior on its own.

How could he have been so foolish?

He sat up, staring down at the stack of papers in determination.

He had to correct this, consequences be damned. Failure was unacceptable.

He may be Thomas' biggest inconvenience, but he could still fix it. He could be better.

He had to be better.


	16. Plans

No one was supposed to know about his plans.

He had many of them, in fact; progress charts were crafted out in detail to studiously follow for marked improvement.

They had been akin to a supervisor reporting on their subordinate, drafting a direct course of action to correct certain behaviors via punishment for failure to change. It was a very rudimentary standard, but a necessary one.

He had a lot of plans, a lot of punishment protocols, and several progress charts for every category in which he needed improvement. All of them were secured in a locked drawer of his desk and kept from prying eyes. Only he was privy to them because only _he_ was meant to see them.

He was meant to handle this on his own. His failures were his own to resolve.

No one else was supposed to know about his plans.

* * *

They were acting strangely, more so than he'd come to expect, that is.

More than once, he'd caught Virgil staring at him with an unreadable expression, even from across the room. He offered nothing but silent judgement in place of his usual witty quips that day, and it was disconcerting to say the least.

Patton continuously asked if Logan needed his assistance, offering his support for absolutely anything Logan happened to be doing, including just reading a book in the living room. He refused to leave him alone, and Logan eventually resorted to ignoring Patton and locking himself up in his bedroom to escape the emotional side's bizarre requests.

And, of course, Roman couldn't keep a secret to save his life. He was meant to be some grandiose actor, and yet, he blurted out a suspicious line about Logan's "improvement" before covering his mouth and sinking out. He avoided Logan all day, only to slip up every so often when accidentally crossing paths, making out of place remarks on progress and an outrageous claim that Logan might be _insecure_.  
After a mere moment to process this information, Logan sorely realized what must have occurred.

Someone had discovered his plans.

Returning to his quarters and checking his desk, only to find it suspiciously untidy confirmed as much, in addition to everyone's obscure behavior that day.

They knew about his lack of improvement.

They knew he'd made an entire five-year retribution plan and had failed to make steady progress in the past due to oversights and lack of follow-through on proper punishment protocols.

They knew he was a failure.

It hurt, knowing that his shame wasn't a secret anymore, but he refused to be some self-pitying fool. He'd done adequate research to determine the best approach to all this, so he didn't need everyone else's concern and what were likely to be useless suggestions.

This was his failure, not theirs. He was the one who had to fix it.

He had this under control, so long as he could stave off the others' pity.

They didn't actually care, because if they did then he'd have failed this time, too. If they cared, they'd be hurt by him.

He couldn't let that happen.

He was in another bind; if he explained his case, they wouldn't listen. They never listened. But if he lied again, they may be able to see the truth behind it and he'll end up digging himself further into this hole.

If he had simply paid closer attention, noticed his stagnation, then he wouldn't have needed correcting and they wouldn't have known.

Logan picked up his last report. There was little, but marked improvement in his updated protocol in only the past week's time. Two or three more weeks at this pace, and he'd be a newer, better Logan.

Perhaps that was the solution then? If he fixed his mess, if he fixed himself, then the new Logan wouldn't need to feel shame or be offered any pity.

The new Logan would be above such trivial social misgivings. The new Logan wouldn't make mistakes, he'd only solve them.

If he succeeded, the new Logan wouldn't have to feel anything at all.

It was a perfect plan.


	17. Ignoring

This was going to work.

Ignoring the constant stares, Logan was determined to make these necessary changes.

Yes, he was aware it perhaps wasn't the most practical plan, to make such abrupt changes with minimal warning. However, the end justified the means in this case.

New Logan could resolve any potential issue that may stem from this situation, as well. Assuage the others' unneeded concern, disregard any emotional interference with ease to maintain objective reasoning, and allow Thomas to be punctual and therefore far more content; new Logan would be able to do everything he couldn't.

The others giving him pitied glances would stop eventually. He just had to ignore it for the time being as he worked toward his goal.

Sure, Patton trying so hard to accommodate him was somewhat endearing, as ineffectual as it was. Roman believing the two of them had something in common sparked some new reactions, but they weren't worth analyzing. And Virgil keeping his distance was almost comforting, especially if it meant he agreed with Logan's decision.  
The less interference, the better.

He certainly didn't want them to interfere with this plan. He had to see it to fruition, and become a newer, better Logic for them and their host.

It didn't matter if he would miss what sometimes used to be. There was hardly anything positive to miss anyway.  
And, above all, the benefits for the others and for Thomas outweighed the detriment of his personal comfort.  
It wasn't as though anyone cared about how he _felt _prior to that moment, so they wouldn't care now.

This would work.

It had to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the slow updates lately. I've also been creating a Logan Angst animatic in my downtime and it tends to garner more of my attention than this fanfiction. There will be more coming soon, though!


	18. Hurting

The morning after he'd noticed the other sides' odd behavior and concluded they had found his progress plans, Patton blocked his way out of the common area in an attempt to have a moment to talk.

As Logan had added patience and listening to his list of new traits to inhabit, he obliged.

What followed was a particularly uncomfortable exchange.

* * *

Patton was often gentle with his words, preferring to keep the others calm and content, as Logan had come to realize. And it appeared he was attempting to do the same now in addressing the non-issue they all seemed to have with Logan's reports.

He started strong with a robust gesture, which meant he rushed across the room and gave Logan a crushing hug without much warning.  
He only bothered to explain his actions after Logan managed to pull out of his hold.

He believed Logan was in "dire need" of comfort. Logan quickly assured Patton that this was not the case, but that only earned him another hug, so he chose to stop mentioning such out loud.

Patton showing heaps of compassion to him were wholly unwelcome, given that the last thing Logan needed was pity. Logan knew the emotional side's misguided concern would only serve to further upset him and Roman and Virgil, not because Logan didn't want their affection but because he wouldn't be able to change in a way they would want.

His reformation would benefit them and Thomas, but he predicted they'd reject his transition as they refused to weigh the consequences like he had.

His plan was going to work, even if the others knew about it and disapproved. He just had to keep at it, and then there would one day be a better Logan to do the needed tasks and not bother the others with such trivial inconveniences.

Patton stared through him. He didn't appreciate Patton's ability to do that, to perceive something without knowing it was there.

"I know you're hurting, Logan," he had said.

Logan found such a statement ridiculous. Firstly, he _wouldn't _know that, as Logan would be sure to resolve such a thing on his own without the others finding out. Secondly, he wasn't experiencing any pain, so the statement was also false.

"I'm not," he affirmed with certainty, staring back at him.

Logan noticed Patton's expression morph, become almost inquisitive, his eyes lowering to search Logan's arms and hands instead of his face.   
He wasn't sure what he intended to find there.

Before long, Patton attempted to apologize for something; Logan didn't understand what purpose that served.

Logan knew he could be patient, but the constant bouts of assurance simply to keep the others from wasting their concern on him would be exhausting.

He just needed to give Patton the truth, something even emotions could not dispute.

"Patton, please know that I am doing this because I want to help Thomas." Logan paused as he noticed himself absentmindedly scratching at his arm. "You may not understand it, and you may not want it to happen, but it's for the best."

There it was. Resolute and true, he laid it out for him in simple terms. No further miscommunication would be had.

Patton reached out and softly gripped his arm. It didn't seem comforting, but rather…controlling.

"I know, somewhere deep down," Patton told him, squeezing his arm and then holding his gaze, "that you don't want this, either."

Logan, obviously, disagreed.

The very notion that there was a small part, even a sliver of Logan that desired comfort in all of this was ridiculous. He hadn't impulsively chosen this path; he spent egregious time researching and had purposefully concluded this decision would produce the best results.

There was no miniscule, emotional piece within him, pushing at the walls, trying to break free from its ever-narrowing demise.

There were no emotions involved in this process.

Patton was mistaken, and everything would be fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so you know, this chapter is why I took so long to update. We're getting into the others reacting and trying to keep Logan from following through now, which is proving to be difficult to write. Please be patient with this little bit, as I still have to write Roman and Virgil's reaction chapters, too.


	19. Relatable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately, Logan is an absolute jerk in this one.

Logan's uncomfortable encounter with Patton earlier that day spurred him into staying in his bedroom for the remainder of the evening.  
However, for once, this behavior somehow caught the attention of Roman.

Without so much as a knock, but plenty exuberant words of announcement, Roman entered his room uninvited, leaving the door wide open as he sauntered his way over to Logan's desk.

Logan had been attempting to keep himself busy (productive) by pre-planning each day of next week's daily tasks. That added structure would minimize emotional response when surprises and mishaps unfortunately but predictably occured.

"No applause?" Roman scoffed, pretending to be offended. "Not even for such an esteemed guest?"

Logan glanced over at him, gaze neutral and mouth closed. At least Roman appeared to be his usual self again, not avoiding Logan in an attempt to keep quiet.

Logan was unsure if that was favorable any longer.

"Well, since you're so clearly _busy_, I'll make this quick," Roman told him, his tone almost sounding bothered.

Logan fought every urge in him to analyze that tone, to better understand and interpret what it meant. He was supposed to be more apathetic, less critical. New Logan would be more welcoming of Roman's ideas while still maintaining sound logic, so he should become used to it.

"I finally understand you, Logan," were his next words, which only served to confuse and bewilder the logical side.   
Roman couldn't possibly make less sense with that statement, and he allowed his expression to display that thought process willingly.

"Hear me out," Roman continued, hands up defensively. "After reading that report--and yes, I shouldn't have been snooping through your things but I just happened upon it and I thought it was something else, and, really, you can't blame me for looking when you put my name in there--"

"Is this meant to be an explanation?" Logan asked, trying and failing to sound patient. He absolutely must work to improve that as soon as possible. It was unacceptable, being so discourteous. New Logan would do better, though. He had to.

"Yes, yes, sorry," Roman sighed dramatically, and adjusted his stance. He wrung his hands together, and Logan attempted to interpret what such an action meant in terms of body language. Nervousness? He wasn't sure he was remembering that correctly. Why would Roman be nervous?

"As I was saying, I understand your dilemma," the prince continued. "Being…_insecure_ can be troubling. Not knowing if you're doing the right thing, and all that jazz? It's the worst. But at least you're not alone in that!"

He smiled in a weirdly warm way and Logan kept his eyebrow raised in confusion.

"You and me, Logan. This evens the playing field a bit, us having common ground and all that, yeah?" Roman reached out a hand for Logan's shoulder, but Logan managed to scoot back out of the way.

Roman paused and frowned, as if he was expecting a different reaction entirely.

Logan was meant to be more patient with him, but only waited a mere ten seconds before deliberating his rebuttal on Roman's oblivious and misguided statement.

"Insecurity and lack of confidence do not guide my decisions, Roman," Logan stood, straightened his posture, and leveled his expression once again. "Your ego may be affected by such feelings of inadequacy, but my reports are conducted via unbiased and objective data-collection, and as such, do not reflect any emotional instability you may have unfoundedly perceived--"

"Okay, Mister Dictionary," Roman cut him off, facial expression quickly turning sour. "Maybe slow down on the unnecessary vocabulary there. Not all of us like dealing with a complete stick in the mud 24/7."

Something about such a familiar and undistinguished response made Logan almost feel relief.

Thankfully, he stopped such an unnatural emotional reaction in its tracks and ventured forth, determined to make his point known.

"You may be seeking comfort in your misgivings, Roman, but I am not."

Roman looked as though he'd been slapped in the face at that.

He had only spoken the truth, as Roman had deserved to know. Sure, he could have given the other ample time to describe his own situation first, but it so clearly had been ill-guided.

The issues he had been experiencing were not akin to being unsure in the quality of a product, but rather in his ability to make such a product in the first place. Roman, of course, didn't understand that.

Logan wasn't driven by emotions, by desires. He had to be reasonable and rational, pursue knowledge and then utilize that knowledge for Thomas' benefit. Emotions were not involved in any part of that process and never would be.

If there were emotions currently ruining that process, Logan's plan would eradicate them and help prevent them from reappearing in the future.

He didn't need this unnecessary relief at Roman's attempt to understand, or Patton's useless words of comfort. Relief did not factor into an improved Logan.

In fact, Roman trying to get Logan to think they're somehow similar only solidified the idea in his mind that he was truly alone in this experience.

And that was okay, because he would correct it soon enough.

"Sorry for trying to help," Roman muttered and slumped out of the room, the door latching closed behind him.

Logan watched him go and ignored whatever odd sensation it was that had crawled into his throat and kept him standing there.

He swallowed awkwardly around it and glanced back at his desk, seeing the planner waiting on his return.

He had work to do.


	20. Cognitive Distortions

Roman's words had grabbed Logan's attention and he'd decided to dig further and deeper, to gather more knowledge on the situation. If Roman, of all sides, could see similarities in Logan's reports to his own behavior, perhaps there were instances of his situation out there, after all. Roman had implied he wasn't "alone" in this, and while he may have misunderstood the context, it was certainly a possibility.  
If it was more common than he'd been led to believe, that could mean others had already conducted their own research. He could simply find their plans and follow a guided task list instead of this frivolous solution-seeking tour to reinvent himself. He could increase his chances of success, to benefit everyone.

It would be an arduous overhaul, though, starting back at the first step of this journey, but if he truly were to change and be better, he would have to uncover what was wrong, what to avoid, and most of all, what to fix. 

So little progress had been made the first time, so this had to work.

However, the more he attempted to list his symptoms and categorize them down to known terms to ease his search, the more he clearly remained empty-handed for solutions.  
None of his work was proving productive. He was wasting his time--wasting everyone's time--all because he was incapable of performing his primary function.  
What was the purpose of a Logic that did not meet all the required standards? How would he ever catch up if he didn't start this correction process? How could he start the process without the data to prove it would succeed? How could he succeed if he wasn't capable of performing his function to begin with--

"Logan?"

He tilted his head up, his neck popping painfully as he noticed he'd been hunched over his desk all this time. He blinked, eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness that had settled in the room outside his brightly-glowing laptop screen, and turned around to see who'd called him.

He hadn't really expected another visitor that evening after his last interaction had been so disastrous, and yet, Virgil was standing in his doorway, expression unreadable in the dim light.

A quick glance back at the clock on his laptop told him it was well past the hour he'd scheduled for Thomas to sleep. His task required low concentration, though, so he hoped Virgil wasn't there to tell him he'd been keeping Thomas awake.

"Uhh, I knocked, but…. uhm. What are you still doing up?" Virgil asked, his voice uncertain but clear as he stepped inside. He crossed the room quickly, almost in a hurry, but Logan couldn't determine why.

It was odd for Virgil to allow himself into the others' rooms, even though Logan had made it known his door was figuratively open at all times in case anyone needed him.   
Logan paused, remembering Virgil also knew about his previous reports. Perhaps this was just an altered behavior due to another misconception of Logan's situation.  
He silently hoped this interaction went down far better than the last.

"…Logan?" Virgil entered his view, his concerned expression clearer in the screen's light. "You know, if you're tired, you can actually sleep. Didn't think I'd have to tell the smart one that."

Logan blinked. He must have been contemplating the situation for much longer than he realized. He corrected his posture and fully turned to Virgil, who stared back at him expectantly.

"My apologies," he began, his voice sounding dry. "I must have lost track of time while conducting research, but I will get back on schedule shortly."

Virgil looked over at the desk and to Logan's laptop, and something in Logan instantly flowed with shame. His hand shot out to close the laptop, only to dunk the room into complete darkness.

He was off to a terrible start in this changing for the better plan.

He tried not to berate himself before raising a hand, commanding a blue florescence to illuminate his room. It was meant to keep the mind stimulated, so he had to remember to dim it down again later, for Thomas' sake.  
Glancing back, he noticed Virgil was still crouched right next to him, looking surprised.

Logan turned away, gathering his notes from his desk and setting them in a file folder to be properly organized later and definitely not to hide away any potentially unsavory documentation that could be further misconstrued by prying eyes.

"Well," Virgil started, chuckling a bit, "are you gonna get to bed then or am I gonna have to force you away from your desk myself?"

Logan didn't bother reacting, knowing his suspicions had been right. Virgil was attempting to show concern by pointing out what he believed to be _a problem_.

He didn't need another reminder his behavior was consistently detrimental to Thomas. The whole reason Logan was even doing all this research and writing reports and limiting interactions was to facilitate a behavioral change, to improve everything that was wrong with himself.

But Virgil already had his mind made up, it seemed.

"Okay, so you and I both know Thomas has that introduction audition tomorrow," Virgil remarked. "Don't you wanna be all well-rested and mentally prepared, or whatever?"

Logan glanced over for only a moment, and tried to consider Virgil's reasoning. Yes, he would typically prepare the memory bank for Thomas' use the next day when he was about to perform an audition, but it was only meant to be an introduction this time. Thomas knew his name and how to give a hearty handshake, and it was unlikely he'd need much else, so Logan had ample time to continue his research.

And if Thomas needed to do any sudden improv work, he could rely on Roman for that. Really, he could rely on Roman for all of it, as Logan wasn't of much use beyond memorizing lines.

"Thomas will be fine," he replied, staring at his desk blankly. "He has his….. Roman."

He bit the inside of his cheek. That sounded stupid, but the word he wanted to use hadn't made sense in context, and he couldn't just backtrack his sentence after having already started. He stifled a sigh, awaiting Virgil's sarcastic response.

"His _Roman_?"

There it was.

Logan didn't bother to turn around.  
"You know what I meant." He wasn't quite sure Virgil did, but both his brain and his eyes were fighting him, so he wasn't about to give an explanation if asked.

Virgil, thankfully, didn't.  
He did, however, lean back against Logan's desk, causing enough of a distraction to get Logan to look away again.

"I think I do," Virgil told him, crossing his arms. "But won't he also need his_ Logan_? There's only one you, after all."

Logan raised an eyebrow. That didn't sound like something Virgil would say.

"Even if he did," he replied earnestly, "there's little chance he'd utilize me, or my services rather, when any of the others would suffice."

Virgil dropped his arms back down, both eyebrows raised, as though he'd just had a realization. Logan tried not to fear what that meant.

"…what makes you say that?"

It seemed like an innocuous question to his tired mind, so he answered truthfully.  
"Past experience, mostly."

But Virgil frowned, knitting his eyebrows together in contemplation. He was being quite expressive today, and it unsettled Logan.  
Virgil used to be so different when they'd first met, and yet he'd changed so much over the years.  
If Virgil could alter his behavior in such a short time while Logan remained the same, what did that mean for him? Was he actually capable of change at all?

"Hey, L?" Virgil leaned minutely closer, "Do me a favor and tell me what's going through your head right now. I'm just curious."

An odd request, but Logan didn't see any potential harm in granting it. Any statistical information would have likely already been made clear due to the others reading his reports, after all. He wouldn't be explaining anything new.

"My thought process involving the situation with Thomas' audition is the most prevalent on my mind, as you've just brought it up," he started, making eye contact with the more anxious side. "It involved the typical affair in analyzing the audition process, such as giving Thomas access to whatever lines he'd memorized, and then would heavily rely on his charisma and speakability to heighten his chance of success. And that is precisely why I concluded Roman's involvement would be far more beneficial than mine, as I cannot provide what Thomas desires in this particular career field he's chosen. In fact, I cannot provide what Thomas desires in most instances--"

Virgil put up a hand, ushering him to stop.  
"That sounds like an overgeneralization to me."

"Wh--" Logan stammered, pausing his automatic denial to consider Virgil's words.

Was his previous statement an overgeneralization? No, he had carefully gathered information over several occurrences, especially of the past five years. The numbers didn't lie. He wasn't assuming anything about this situation, it was simply a negative outcome and he was reacting in an appropriate manner.

He told Virgil as much.

"And I'm telling _you_ that you're not looking at the positives. It's all cognitive distortions, yeah? You're the one who taught me this stuff, L. I don't know how you could've forgotten it."

Logan grit his teeth. 

This wasn't about sleeping, or Thomas' audition, then. This had always been about Logan's reports.

He couldn't bring himself to meet Virgil's eyes. Whatever this was, it wasn't shame; it stung deeper, the pain spreading behind his eyes until they were hot. 

He strategically placed a palm over his face, trying to stave off the inevitable while also attempting to prevent Virgil from seeing any unbidden tears. 

"There are…" Logan paused, hearing his voice waver. "There are many differences between cognitive distortions and an objectively mishandled situation. I'm now handling this one to the best of my ability--"

"Are you, though?" Virgil questioned.

Logan tensed, his shoulders feeling strained as he battled between reacting enough to keep Virgil away and not reacting at all to keep his dignity and progress in place.

"I… acknowledge that you want to help," Logan tried again, just barely glancing up from behind his hand. "However, I have not requested, nor will I ever request your assistance on a matter in which I have full control, such as this one."

This was his mistake, and it was his job to correct it. If his decision to mark progress and reinvent himself was unwelcome to the others, then there was little he could do about it. This was his best answer. Full of holes and uncertainty, yes, but it was chosen through vigorous research… and it was all he had for now.  
The others could pity him all they wanted, but that wouldn't change anything.

"Alright, geez," Virgil shoved himself up and away from the desk. "Just thought you might want a second look at your thought process is all…"

While it was true Logan had momentarily wavered, he knew better than to accept whatever help the others had believed they were giving him. He was meant to solve this on his own.  
He gathered himself and held his head high once more. He wasn't about to be fooled again.

"It seems you thought incorrectly," he said resolutely.

"Wouldn't be the first time," Virgil grumbled, wrenching his hood up over his head and briskly heading for the door.

He didn't look back. And, for that, Logan was grateful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended up being much longer than anticipated. Whoops.


	21. Breaking

He'd been reading again, to occupy his time.

Logan actively tried to avoid fiction, but Thomas' affinity for happy endings didn't often come from almanacs and scientific journals, so fantasy would have to do.

This book, in particular, was already sounding familiar with every page. He'd read a few stories with the same predictable buildup. The ensemble cast works together toward a mutual goal, all while overcoming obstacles in their way. Each character falls under a different archetype, to help balance them out and keep them identifiable from each other.

The sweet and innocent one is hiding something from the others. The boisterous and confident one is actually insecure. The moody and mysterious one just acts tough to protect himself. It's always the same.

And, of course, there's the strong-willed character who would do everything in their control to aid the others, only to finally be bested in the end as their own personal battle. Their emotional strength abruptly withers, the wall they so carefully crafted falls, revealing their true self underneath. The other characters' perspectives shatter right along with the formerly strong character's heart and soul. He loses far more than pride, he loses his sense of self.

The others will then likely rally together and lift their friend back up to be the strong-willed character they all knew before, but he'll somehow be emboldened with the power of friendship or other such nonsense, and he'll be stronger for them right through to the ending.

Logan knew it was merely a story, but the harsh divide between fiction and reality was so clear in this one.

In fiction, the others would finally return the favor, they'd care for and nurture their friend, and he could trust them to do so. Mutual respect reigned over their expectations, and the whole group benefitted from it.

But in reality, falling is failing. The others would rely on this person, and now he can't do the one thing he's meant to provide? They would drop him, find an alternative. They don't need a 'friend' as much as they need a resource.

There would be no returned favor, no friendship bridging the gaps, no helping the one who helps.

Someone seen as strong would never let that happen, not just to save face, but to protect those around them.  
Sure, it's a nice thought to trust someone not to respond negatively in that situation, but living beings are unpredictable, unlike trope-based fiction. Even the nicest person can be soured by sudden burden, after all.

True strength meant the fortitude to carry his own burdens.

Trusting someone to do something selfless was a foolish venture, and Logan wasn't about to test that.

Perhaps that was enough reading for today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, for those who don't know, I happen to write all these chapters (including those for No Hugs, Please) on my phone because I don't have a functioning computer, and I recently had to perform a factory reset which resulted in me losing ALL of my written works in the process...including my detailed outlines and completed chapters for this fic and No Hugs, Please.  
Please be patient while I attempt to remember and rewrite everything as it's been taking longer than anticipated to do so.  
Sorry for all the delays in the meantime!


	22. Simple

It was simple.

Despite any extraneous intentions from the others, Logan had begun his newest plan. Originally, the idea had been to find ways to be more useful to Thomas. Productivity and responsibility hand in hand, allowing Logan some sense of stability and ease.   
However, Thomas' reluctance to increase productivity and then the other sides' new interest in pleasantries to correct Logan's new behaviors quickly showed him that a new plan was needed.

Instead of crafting a New Logan, his updated plan was to revert to an older version of sorts.

Yes, he fully intended to 'duck out' just as Virgil had attempted not all that long ago. However, unlike Virgil, he would be successful.  
There were always consequences to trying to leave this state, this being. Logan had spent quite a lot of time researching and experimenting, learning just why they all were the way they were.  
Clearly, the only reason they all existed as metaphysical people, with differing personalities and individual traits, was because Thomas had willed that to be so.  
It was very simple. Thomas wanted to be able to understand his own self better, so he found a way to do that…just in an almost-literal sense.   
And, by that reasoning, if one of his 'creations' wanted to escape, it could not be by their own choice. They were all parts of Thomas that he had projected outwardly, which meant they existed within Thomas in their basest forms. All of them were merely thoughts, impulses, and emotions, bursting through Thomas' brain in reactionary transmissions. Most of those were conceptually necessary for survival, but others were learned and grew to be inconsequential with time…

No, what Virgil had attempted to do would never have worked. At least, not in the way he had conducted it. Virgil would have, at best, hidden out of sight, perhaps counting on Thomas eventually forgetting about him in his stupor, never bothering to go looking deep enough to reach him again.  
But as much as Virgil may deny it, anxiety feeds on fear. Twisting it, skewing it, until it turns on its wielder and consumes them in turn.  
Fear, as dreaded as it may be, was necessary for survival.  
Logic, on the other hand, was a luxury in comparison. As a child, learning and rationale would come in handy to Thomas, but it then ceased to be of much use to him as an adult. Sure, knowledge was important, but memory was all Thomas truly needed now. To remember what he had learned, to remember what to fear, what to eat, what to do. Logan had access to Thomas' memory, as did all the other sides, but otherwise he had nothing to do with it.   
Thomas could recall memories on his own. He didn't need Logan for that. He didn't need him for anything.

That was how Logan knew he had the correct solution.

Thomas had originally wanted the sides to be there. So, all it would take to leave is for Thomas to not want them anymore.   
Not fading into obscurity and forgotten, but rather fully chosen to be taken away.   
If Thomas ceased to find him useful, much as the others had long ago, then he could be granted a way out. If Thomas didn't want him there, he could just…wake up one day, no more logic and reasoning there to guide his steps. He could rely on his memory and whatever guidance the others could provide instead.

He wouldn't need it much, anyway, as logic was more about knowledge, about learning. If Thomas didn't want to learn, there was nothing left for Logan to provide him. And if Thomas didn't need to learn, why would he want anything from Logan?

He didn't. He wouldn't. 

It was simple.

And it would work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I wrote this a while back but ended up revamping it to match the new episode's canon. Hope that's alright...


	23. Bridges

_Bam!_

The sharp sound resonated a moment, and the water rippled as a few tiny pieces of stone fell down from overhead.

Logan took a breath, aimed again, and swung the sledgehammer at the foundation once more.

_Bam!_

A sizeable chunk plopped into the water, sinking instantly.

Logan lifting a gloved hand to wipe the sweat from his brow and push his hair back a bit. Nearly an hour at this already and he'd barely made a dent. But he needed to stay determined.

He gripped the handle again, aimed back.

_Bam!_

Logan leaned down a moment to inspect the last impact. A significant crack was starting to form on one of the large stones of the bridge's foundation. If he kept up this pace, he'd have the leg out within a day.

He straightened his back, corrected his posture, and aimed again.

_Bam!_

He huffed, the sledgehammer growing heavier with every swing. He wasn't sure how Remus could always carry around that morningstar, given how this hammer nearly slid out of his grip and into the water below at every moment of rest.

_Bam!_

Another small piece of stone dropped from above, plopping soundly into the dark water below him. Though, _below_ was relative as Logan was currently standing knee-deep in the black river. Its current hardly moved at all, the water choosing to stand still and reflect the perfect galaxy of stars up above. 

No wildlife seemed to feed from the river, no fish swam within its black and unmoving water. He doubted the river provided anything of value to anyone.

_Bam!_

The crack was increasing but it was only one stone on one foundation hold on the entire bridge. While he had estimated a month's time to take out the bridge, he hadn't considered how tiring the activity would truly be after having spent all day scheduling, fixing Thomas' neverending dilemmas, and pretending he was content among the other sides.

_Bam!_

He could research better methods, but that would detract from his time during the day, or his time here at night. He was already being very careful, very calculated, as to not draw attention to his actions.

Roman couldn't know he was here; he couldn't know that Logan had ever found this place and discerned its purpose.

_Bam!_

The crack splintered out, and a chunk of the rock fell into the water.

Logan stared down as it disappeared below the surface. 

Progress.

* * *

He took a breath, staring up at the bridge stretching out above him, over the water, connecting very different pieces of land.

Both sides lay quiet, dormant as the night went on, this section of the mindscape empty save for Logan himself.

He had found the place by accident, funnily enough.

One wrong move in the deep memory and he'd plummeted into a place he hadn't known existed in Thomas' head. 

Looking up, the stars shone brightly, and he would later find after multiple visits that they shone just as true in the day as they did in the night.

Curiosity led to exploration, and he'd found the silent river. It didn't reflect the stars as clearly the first day. That first time, it was clouded and mottled. 

He briefly wondered if the river was part of the Imagination, if he'd maybe stumbled into Roman's domain somehow, and then the water _moved_. It rippled a moment, grabbing his attention as it shifted its colors and hues until it shimmered iridescent, like a rainbow.

It was beautiful and fascinating.

Logan chose to get a closer look, and attempted to climb down the steep hill leading to the river.

It didn't go so well.

He landed in the water with a somehow quiet and lonely splash. No echo or dripping. But that was how he found it was a shallow river, and the moment he thought to be relieved that no one had seen such foolishness, the rainbow colors surrounding him shifted, morphing as they had earlier.

Logan stared, watching as the colors melted into each other, bleeding into reds and orange, becoming a bright brown, like a filthy river of sludge.

Disgusted but still intrigued, Logan stood himself up, and went to correct his tie, only to find it dry as usual. All of him was completely dry and organized, unstained, untouched. 

After a moment, he realized that this made sense, as this was merely Thomas' mindscape, there was no true permanence in such a place. Logically, a metaphysical being shouldn't be able to become soaked or injured.

Not physically, anyway.

He had gradually stepped out of the river, returning to the shore. Looking down, he confirmed he was entirely dry. 

As logical as it seemed, he recalled having visited the Imagination in the past, only to be covered in glitter in one instance, slime in another, albeit always temporarily.

What was it about this river that was so different?

Returning his gaze to the river, he found it to be iridescent once more.

It took nearly a handful of return visits before Logan recognized that the river would shift and change in response to _him_. It seemed to reflect either his thoughts or emotions, not that he would ever admit they were there, but that meant whatever this river's purpose, it was dangerous.

It took only one more visit for him to realize what the lands on either side held and how the lands adjacent to the river connected… via a stone bridge.

And now, here he was, attempting to dismantle it.

* * *

_Bam!_

He swung at the chipped away stone again, tiny chunks of it falling away and into the water. 

He was determined to make significant progress on this pillar today, no matter how exhausted he became, and no matter how much time had already passed.

_Bam!_

If he had known about this place sooner, perhaps he could have prevented the bridge ever being built in the first place. Really, it shouldn't have even existed, but it's difficult to control that which you aren't privy to, after all.

_Bam!_

He hoisted the hammer to rest on his shoulder as he took another deep breath, trying to keep his mind calm and focused on the task at hand. 

There was no need for this bridge. The longer it stayed, the longer it held firm, then the harder it would be to let go later.

He gripped the sledgehammer and swung back at the stone foundation again. Another larger chunk plopped into the water, and Logan grinned in satisfaction.

The river around his legs quickly glowed green in response.

He grimaced, and closed his eyes, willing himself to think about his task again. 

Destroy the bridge. Break the bond. 

He opened his eyes again to find the water shifting back to black, reflecting the starry sky.

Much better.

He swung again at the rock, no hesitation.

The small pieces falling were the tiniest bit larger than before. Logan considered that progress.

Just a few more hours and he should have created significant structural damage to the pillar. It wouldn't destroy the bridge on its own, of course, but he would take out the middle pillar on the opposite side tomorrow. And then he'd just need to take out the far end pillar closest to the other side after that and it should be gone.

_Bam!_

Destroy the bridge. 

_Bam!_

Break the bond.

_Bam!_

He knew he could do it, and he knew he had to. For Thomas' sake, and, really, for all of them. A long-sought after solution and here it was, ready to be taken.

_Bam!_

If he could just remove the one thing keeping him so loyal, so determined to please them despite their ungrateful words and their placating smiles and their ignorant eye-rolls; if he could just be rid of what kept him in place, he could take better control. He could make far better decisions and lead Thomas to a happier future.

_Bam!_

The stone cracked and chipped away again, another chunk falling into the water, which now shone a ghastly orange. Swirled with bits of yellow and specks of red, the orange river moved around him, as if swirling.

He shut his eyes, taking a deep breath again.

He was getting better at remembering to just keep his mind focused on the task at hand, but these slip ups were wasting too much time.

The river was black and cold and silent once more.

Logan stared at the pillar, a decent-sized dent chipped into its side, and significant cracks on the stones surrounding the base.

Just a little longer and it'd be broken.

He hoisted the sledgehammer again, aiming, and then pounding it against the side of the pillar as hard as he could muster.

_Bam!_

Another chunk fell away into the water.

Just a little longer and it'd be broken, truly broken.

_Bam!_

Another swing and it'd be closer to being inoperable, unrepairable, and never needed for anything anymore. 

You can't use something once it's broken. But you can't replace it if there's only one, either.

_Bam!_

Once it's completely useless, no one will even think to replace it anyway.

_Bam!_

Destroy the bridge.

_Bam!_

Break the bond.

_Bam!_

Another rock, another split, more pieces falling away into the river below, and Logan won't pause.

He's so very close to having done it. The pillar will be destroyed, then the bridge, then him. This plan should work.

It _will_ work.

Sure, every other plan had failed in the past, but this? This had to work.

_Bam!_

He would make it work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I've been away for so long without updating this or No Hugs, Please. Neither story is done, but I've had a rough time getting any creativity flowing for months. Hopefully that'll change soon.


End file.
